


she spoke nine words (and now we're sinking)

by brittandsanforever



Series: Brittana: the scenes that could’ve been [3]
Category: Brittana - Fandom, Glee
Genre: Brittany's had enough of Santana's bullshit, F/F, Puck finds out about Brittana, brittana, jealous santana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:01:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27123544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittandsanforever/pseuds/brittandsanforever
Summary: Alcohol mixed with a certain Katy Perry song stirs up a lot of feelings, driving both girls to their breaking points (aka, what really happened at the Rachel Berry House Party Train Wreck Extravaganza). Set during Blame It on the Alcohol (2x14).
Relationships: Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce, minor Artie Abrams/Brittany S. Pierce, minor Sam Evans/Santana Lopez
Series: Brittana: the scenes that could’ve been [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936897
Comments: 1
Kudos: 57





	she spoke nine words (and now we're sinking)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is lyrics from EDEN's sex.

Santana never really had a real boyfriend until now. Sure, she _technically_ dated Puck for a few short months during sophomore year (her rare exception to _sex isn’t dating_ to gain some social capital), she slept with Finn the same year (and deeply regretted it seconds after), and also had a handful of other meaningless Brittany-provoked hook-ups with various jocks who she now ignored in the hallways and visibly _gagged_ as she passed them just thinking about how she gave herself to them so willingly.

But now she has a _boyfriend_ , and it’s Sam _freakin’_ Evans, McKinley’s newest Golden Boy. Sam’s sweet and considerate and loyal—kind of like a puppy, and that’s exactly how Santana treats him. _He_ belongs to _her_ , which means they hang out when _she_ wants to, they kiss when _she_ initiates it, and he runs to her whenever _she_ calls.

Santana swooped in not even a day after Sam dumped Quinn for cheating on him with Finn. _Serves them right for sneaking around behind Trouty Mouth’s back_ , she thought at the time, but realized she was a _major_ hypocrite because she was doing the same thing with Brittany, and was encouraging her to do the same thing to Artie. But Santana didn’t really _care_ about Artie, and at the time of her homewrecking spree right around Valentine’s Day she _sort of_ cared about Sam, or at least about making Sam _hers_. 

She hadn’t gone to all that effort because she _liked_ Sam or because she _actually_ wanted to be with him, but because Sam was kind of like the male version of Brittany, and he would do, for now, while it felt like the real thing was currently so out of reach. 

She did _try_ to like Sam, at first, but quickly realized he was simply a replacement for something she wanted so badly but couldn’t have. The truth is, Santana isn’t sure she even knows _how_ to be in a relationship with a boy. Everything feels so _awkward_ , and _forced_ , and like she always has to put on a _show_ to make people believe they’re really together.

The worst part is, flaunting her relationship with Sam in Brittany’s face didn’t even seem to make her jealous. She just seemed uncomfortable and sad, and her eyes would drift somewhere else, _anywhere else_ , and they seemed to have lost the sparkle Santana was so used to seeing.

Basically, Santana was _miserable_ , and Brittany was _miserable_ , and the only time they _weren’t_ miserable was when they were sneaking around with each other behind their boyfriends’ backs. But when she couldn’t be with Brittany, Santana decided it was better to be miserable than alone, which she would be if she didn’t have Sam. And Brittany had Artie, so she wasn’t alone, either. 

And then Rachel Berry decided to throw a house party because her dads were out of town for the weekend. Santana decided that she was definitely _not_ going, since she really ever only went to parties to boost her popularity, and going to a _Rachel Berry party_ was social suicide. She also knew there’d be _zero_ alcohol, so there was really no point in going at all.

But then Puck promised he could score some wine coolers (and maybe some hard stuff) from his friend, and if Santana was being completely honest, her social standing was ruined the second she joined the Glee club (hence all of the slushie facials from jocks that she was constantly trying to avoid), so she decided it wouldn’t be the _worst_ thing to at least stop by Rachel’s. She could also show up with Sam, which she knew might get a reaction out of Brittany, and she was desperate for _any_ interactions she could get with the blonde.

That night at Rachel’s, all Santana could think about was Brittany, even while her lips were pressed against Sam’s, which was every two seconds, as she felt she needed to do some damage control (especially after Rachel implied on Valentine’s Day that she wasn’t the only one in Glee club who knew about her and Brittany). It also helped that alcohol was coursing through her veins, because while Sam _did_ have nice lips, and great hair, and kind eyes, she felt absolutely _no_ spark between them whatsoever and it was getting harder and harder to pretend.

The party was an absolute _bust_ until Puck convinced Rachel to let him break into her dads’ liquor cabinet in the kitchen. He came down the steps of the basement triumphantly, a stupid smirk on his face, arms full with assorted bottles of vodka, tequila, and whiskey. He even had a few bottles of expensive-looking champagne tucked under his arm. 

Santana was glad because, like Puck, she’d tried all types of alcohol at various parties and knew there was _no way_ she’d get drunk off a couple of cheap wine coolers, since that was all he could score. And she knew that she’d _need_ a bit of the heavy stuff if she was ever going to get through another night of _Bartie_ being all over each other. 

Once they all had some alcohol in their systems, the party came alive within minutes, and Santana was actually starting to have a good time. She _loved_ seeing Rachel Berry and Blaine Warbler drunk, and claimed it was the funniest thing ever. She’s pretty sure it was the first time either of them had even a _sip_ of alcohol. Of course, it became kind of depressing once Rachel started throwing herself at a very sober Finn who looked like he’d rather be _anywhere_ else.

She spent the first half of the night making out with Sam, kissing him like her life depended on it, trying _so_ hard just to feel _something_ , to see if _maybe_ she was straight, if _maybe_ the whole thing with Brittany was really just an intense schoolgirl crush that would eventually go away, if _maybe_ she wasn’t this person that deep down inside she felt so _ashamed_ of and _definitely_ wasn’t quite ready to accept. 

She also spent a lot of time with Brittany: dancing with her, laughing with her, doing body shots with her. She knew it was all a little…. _gay_ , but she didn’t care because she was drunk, and Brittany was drunk, and she felt so _alive_ as her tongue licked a hot stripe up Brittany’s toned stomach to collect salt before tilting her head back and letting the shot of tequila burn the back of her throat as the blonde chanted her name. 

The laughter and the licking and Brittany saying her name reminded her of _something else_ they often did together, usually with a lot less clothes, and suddenly that was _all_ she could think about. 

“Again, ‘Tana, it tickles!” Brittany yelled over the music, sitting up to look at Santana as salt fell from her abs. She was wearing nothing but a tight black skirt and a pink bra (one she borrowed from Santana when they were still similar in size prior to her _summer surgery_ ) and it was taking _everything_ in the Latina not to openly stare at her, like she knew exactly how amazing Brittany looked underneath the clothes. She immediately scanned the room for a tall blonde boy with shaggy hair, knowing she needed a distraction, or just something she could put her hands and mouth on that was _not_ Brittany. 

“Maybe later, Britts, right now I needs me some Trouty Mouth.”

She found Sam dancing with Mercedes and Tina and grabbed him by the collar aggressively, forcing their mouths together. They pulled away and suddenly Rachel was standing on a table hollering at everyone. 

“Spin the bottle time! Come on everyone, get in the circle!”

Santana watched as everyone sat down in a circle around an empty bottle of champagne. She was the only one who _didn’t_ join, and multiple heads turned to look at her in confusion. She commented about Sam’s _trouty Aerosmith lips_ , and how they belonged to _her_ , resulting in forlorn glances from Brittany. 

She was just fine watching from the sidelines until it was _Brittany’s_ turn, and the bottle landed on _Sam._ Puck, Mike, and Blaine started wolf whistling as they both smiled and leaned into the center of the circle and in less than two seconds, they were kissing. _Really kissing_. Everyone was cheering them on while Santana watched in disgust, but then she saw Sam’s _entire tongue_ shove into Brittany’s mouth and that’s when she lost it. 

It was easy to tell when Santana was truly angry because she started calling people _honeys_ and speaking Spanish, and suddenly she was lunging forward and yanking the back of Sam’s shirt to pull him away from Brittany. 

“ _¡No me gusta!”_ she yelled, much louder than she anticipated, causing everyone in the circle to turn around and stare at her. She was glaring at Brittany, not Sam, a seething, pained look on her face (one that screamed, _I have to watch you make out with your boyfriend, and now my boyfriend too?)_ and Brittany just stared back at her helplessly. 

After Spin the Bottle was _finally_ over, Kurt suggested they do karaoke, and seconds later Rachel, still high off of her kiss with Blaine, was pulling him up to her makeshift “stage” and they sang “Don’t You Want Me” together. Next was Quinn, Mercedes, and Tina with Lady Gaga’s “Paparazzi”, and then Finn and Puck followed with “Use Somebody” by Kings of Leon. 

The boys belted out the last note as they stood back-to-back, and before Santana even knew what was happening, Brittany was dragging her by the arm up to the stage.

“San, we _have_ to do a song together, _pleaseee_ ,” Brittany pleaded, and when Santana didn’t give her a refusal, she looked over her shoulder to Artie who was in charge of the music, “Ooo, let’s do some Katy Perry. Surprise us, Artie!”

Artie nodded and picked a song at random, and Santana heard the familiar beat begin to play over the speakers, her stomach immediately twisting into knots. Of all the Katy songs that four-eyed idiot could’ve picked, he had to pick _this_ one. She sensed that Brittany felt the same way because her eyes had that melancholic glint to them that made Santana’s chest ache.

The Latina was relieved when Brittany raised the microphone to begin the song, as she was still trying to figure out how she was going to sing _at all_ without bursting into tears. It was a sad song to begin with, but the context was just too real, and too painful. 

_Summer after high school, when we first met_

_We’d make out in your Mustang to Radiohead_

_And on my 18th birthday, we got matching tattoos_

Brittany’s gaze burned into her as she sang, her voice matching the song perfectly, and it was suddenly like they were the only two people in the room. Brittany lowered her microphone to let Santana know it was her turn, an unreadable expression on her face.

_Used to steal your parents’ liquor and climb to the roof_

_Talk about our future like we had a clue_

_Never planned that one day I’d be losing you_

Of course she had to sing about _losing someone_ and _the future_ and the lyrics were just so _fitting_ towards what was actually happening with her and Brittany that she felt like she was seconds away from falling apart in front of the entire Glee club over a _stupid_ Katy Perry song.

She’d been trying her hardest to look at _anyone_ but Brittany, but right as the chorus began they locked eyes, and Brittany’s stare was _consuming_ and her eyes had that _sparkle_ Santana knew and loved, and it was probably the most _intense_ thing she’s _ever_ felt as both girls realized they were singing to each other in that moment.

_In another life, I would be your girl_

_We’d keep all our promises, be us against the world_

The song _hurt_ , and the lyrics struck deep down into her core, with every word seeming to leave a deeper burn, and the fact that this could soon become her reality— _hoping_ for a chance with Brittany in _another life_ , when all she wanted was to be with her in _this one_ —was truly just too much to bear.

_In another life, I would make you stay_

_So I don’t have to say you were the one that got away_

_The one that got away_. Santana’s entire body felt like it was on fire now. On fire with pent-up anger, with yearning, and with all these other feelings she couldn’t quite name (or was just too scared to). She knew that the only person who would be able put out the flames was Brittany.

The rest of the song was a blur and she wasn’t even sure if she was really singing anymore because all she could hear was Brittany’s voice, Brittany’s _sweet_ , _beautiful_ , _angelic_ voice that was also filled with sadness and longing, adding so much depth to the song. She can’t believe she even _agreed_ to this, but she could really never say _no_ to Brittany, and she _did_ just do five shots of tequila and hardly knew what was happening until the song began.

“ _Bathroom upstairs. Five minutes_ ,” Santana whispered huskily into Brittany’s ear as the blonde pulled her into a tight hug after the song finished, those _agonizing_ four minutes finally over. If the Glee club didn’t know something was going on between them before, Santana guesses they definitely know _now_. She was going to have to do something about that later, but right now, all she cared about was Brittany.

The Latina made her way upstairs, watching Brittany dance over to Artie and Kurt, who were squealing about how she killed the song. She quickly found the bathroom and closed the door behind her, propping herself up on the counter. All she could think about was whether or not Brittany was going to show, and she wasn’t sure she could take it if she _didn’t_. She’s not sure she could handle any more rejections, especially from Brittany. 

Santana’s eyes darkened and clouded with lust as soon as Brittany entered the bathroom, exactly five minutes later. She’d told Brittany to meet her here because there was _no way_ she was having sex in Rachel Berry’s bed, and she knew that’s what this was going to lead to. It had been _way_ too long (only a week, but it felt like it’d been _months_ ), and they both _needed_ this.

Brittany’s eyes were impossibly dark, and heavy, and infinitely _blue_ (a deep, soul-crushing blue one could _drown_ in), but once she shut the door and turned around, she sort of just stood there, waiting for Santana to make the next move. She wasn’t even really sure _why_ the Latina wanted to meet, but she guessed it had something to do with the song they could both still hear echoing around them.

But when Santana didn’t say anything, and just continued to stand there _staring_ at her with _those_ eyes, Brittany felt even more confused. Just being around Santana _at all_ these days was confusing. “Santana, what are we—”

Brittany didn’t even get to finish because she was being shoved backwards by hands that set her skin on fire wherever they left a trail. Santana pressed her lips to Brittany’s with such a force that the blonde whimpered as the back of her head slammed against the bathroom door. 

While never breaking the kiss, Santana’s hand found the door handle and locked it, her hand returning to where it’d been bracing the back of Brittany’s neck, pulling her in as close as they possibly could be, so close she could feel the blonde’s heartbeat against her own.

Brittany was still in shock from the Latina’s strength (which truthfully turned her the _hell_ on) and the built-up tension of it all that thickened the air around them, so much so that she forgot everything she planned on saying to Santana.

She also was feeling so _conflicted_ because her boyfriend was downstairs and while she’d been doing…. _this_ with Santana for a while now (and had convinced Santana she believed the whole _it’s not cheating because the plumbing’s different_ bullshit), but it felt just plain _wrong_ to do this with him in the same house. 

Brittany suddenly pulled away from the kiss, her brow furrowed in confliction. “But Artie and Sam, they’re—”

“Can we _not_ talk about them right now? You know what, how about we just don’t talk at all,” Santana’s eyes had darkened even more if that was possible, and her nails were digging into the bare skin of Brittany’s hip underneath her skirt as she leaned in to connect their lips again. But Brittany turned abruptly and Santana’s full, wanting lips brushed against her cheek instead. The Latina groaned in irritation.

Brittany suddenly felt angry, and annoyed, because _of course_ Santana would say that, and it was something that they _desperately_ needed more than sex— _talking_ , Brittany knew that _really talking to each other_ could change everything, and fix this whole mess, but _of course_ Santana refused to, like she _always_ does. 

“Oh, _of course_. ‘Cause we _never_ do that. We _never—_ ” Santana cut her off again with another searing kiss, one that made her knees weak and a moan escape from their joined lips, and before she could even _say_ or _do_ anything, the Latina dropped to the floor, her knees slamming hard against the bathroom tile. 

Brittany knew exactly what was about to happen, but seeing Santana drop to her knees in front of her never failed to make her breath catch in her throat. She watched from above as Santana frantically bunched up her skirt with one hand and quickly moved away her panties with the other, her tongue meeting Brittany’s hot center with _zero_ hesitation the second the fabric was pulled out of the way. The blonde gasped and instinctively thrusted her hips into Santana’s mouth, and the Latina moaned hungrily as she finally got the one thing she’s been wanting _all night_. 

Santana looked up at Brittany from between her thighs, a devilish glimmer in her eyes as she lapped away at her, swift and relentless, knowing _exactly_ where Brittany needed her the most. She relished in the way Brittany tasted, the way Brittany’s hands tangled desperately in her hair, fingers scraping at her scalp with every swirl of her tongue, the way she could _feel_ Brittany getting closer and closer.

Less than five minutes later, Brittany was a mess, coming undone around Santana’s tongue as her legs gave out shakily, and she was now collapsed against the Latina on the bathroom floor, both girls a mixture of sweat and heavy breathing. Santana leaned forward, kissing Brittany _hard_ , allowing her to taste herself on Santana’s tongue, and the blonde groaned into her mouth. 

As soon as Brittany could take in a couple deep breaths, she was lifting Santana up and roughly setting her down onto the marble countertop, gripping tan thighs hard enough to leave a mark as she stared into hooded, dark eyes that were filled with nothing but desire. 

Brittany yanked Santana’s dark jeans and panties down to her ankles in one swift motion, immediately replacing the fabric with her hand, teasing her entrance with two long, slender fingers. With absolutely no warning, she shoved both fingers inside, eliciting a sharp groan from Santana as she gripped at the countertop for leverage. Brittany was merciless and unwavering with her fingers, thumb circling around her clit, and she felt the Latina’s walls begin to tighten around them, her breathing getting more uneven with every stroke.

Brittany melted at the way Santana’s head was tilted back in ecstasy, the way her long dark hair cascaded down her back, the way her lips were parted and her nails dug into the skin of Brittany’s waist and scraped at her back (probably leaving marks, but she didn’t care, not right now, when the Latina was about to fall over the edge and was begging her _don’t stop_ ). 

“ _Come for me, San_ ,” Brittany whispered gruffly into the Latina’s ear at the same time she curled her fingers inside of her, and that’s all it took for everything to come crashing down, Santana’s body giving out against the blonde, who held her steady and peppered her neck and chest with kisses as Santana tried to catch her breath. 

The only sounds in the bathroom now were the girls’ jagged breathing and faint dance music seeping through the walls as they collected scattered clothing items and fixed their hair and makeup in the mirror. Santana wasn’t planning on saying _anything_ because she didn’t want to ruin it. 

The last twenty minutes had been _wild_ and almost _careless_ , but she never felt more _alive_ than when she got to have Brittany like this: all messy golden hair and heaving chest, sweaty collarbone and dilated pupils, lips curving into a satisfied smile afterwards. It made her sick to think about how someone _else_ got to see her like this, _have her_ like this, and she wished more than anything in that moment that she was the only one. That Brittany was _hers_ , and _only_ hers. 

When Brittany decided she was finally ready to return to the party downstairs (she’s still not sure how to explain the scratch marks on her back and waist to anyone who might see them), she stood with her hand on the door handle and looked back at Santana, who was still fixing her lipstick in the mirror. 

“That song made me really sad. You have to know, Santana....I wasn’t thinking about Artie _at all_. I was thinking about _you_. You were all I could think about the entire time, and it _hurts_. My head hurts, my heart hurts, _everything_ hurts, and I’m not sure if I can do this anymore.”

Santana felt numb as she watched her leave, the blonde’s words slicing through her. It was clear now that Brittany was hurting as much as she was, and it was clear now that she didn’t really _want_ to be with Artie, just like Santana didn’t really want to be with Sam.

It was just nine words, but they replayed over and over in her head, even as Puck drove her home at one in the morning, _I’m not sure if I can do this anymore_. Santana sat silently trying to decipher what the blonde meant by _this_ , unsure if she meant the sex, the dance they’d been doing around each other for weeks pretending like there wasn’t something _more_ between them and something they needed to work out, or their friendship. Because it sounded like a _breakup_ , but due to Santana’s _no labels_ rule, she wasn’t even sure what they were right now. 

“Hey, you okay, Lopez?” Puck asked, his eyes drifting from the road to Santana.

The gravity of Brittany’s words started to sink in, and Santana realized she could _lose_ her, like _actually_ lose her _for good_ , like they sang during karaoke just a few hours ago. 

“ _I love her_ ,” Santana revealed, before she could even stop herself. The words just came out, like she _needed_ to get them out, like she didn’t even care that she was basically _outing_ herself to a friend, like admitting her feelings to Puck would somehow magically fix everything. Maybe it was all of the tequila that was still making her head pound and her vision fuzzy around the edges. 

“ _Him_ , you mean. Sam?” Puck asked, confusion in his voice.

“No, _her_. I love her, I love her so much it _hurts_ ,” she continued, and it suddenly hit her all at once, and she realized she was spiraling out of control, and blurting out her feelings to the wrong person, but that these feelings were _real_ and _true_ and _honest_ and they came from somewhere deep inside her and it felt _so good_ to finally say them out loud, even if the person they were meant for wasn’t there to hear it. 

“Okay, now you’ve lost me, S,” Puck stated plainly as he stared at her in utter confusion, scratching at the side of his head and searching her eyes for the answer. He finally came to the realization seconds later and his eyes widened. “Oh. _Oh_. You and…. _wow_. So you two _weren’t_ just banging this whole time. You _love_ her.”

“I love her,” she stated honestly, three words that had previously been impossible for her to say out loud. 

“Okay….why don’t you just go and get her, then? There’s _no way_ she’d pick that crippled kid over you, you’re hands down the hottest chick at McKinley,” Puck said as he pulled into Santana’s driveway, stating it like it was the obvious thing to do. Santana rolled her eyes because Puck didn’t understand, but he was clearly trying to, so she stopped herself from yelling at him. 

“I don’t want to talk about this, Noah. Not right now. Not tonight, I _can’t_. I don’t even know why I told you, I guess I just needed to say the words out loud,” Santana said calmly, and Puck could see the pain in her eyes, and knew she only called him _Noah_ when she was really upset. 

“You got it, Lopez, I won’t make you talk. But I’m here in case you ever want to. I know I can be a dick, but I always have your back. And don’t worry, my lips are sealed, okay? Promise.”

Santana nodded at him with a tight-lipped smile as she reached for her bag on the floor and then pulled herself out of his truck, dropping until her feet hit the ground. “Hey, Puck?”

“Yeah, Lopez?”

“Just….thanks. Not only for the ride, but….for being my friend.”

Only a few miles away, Brittany was rolling Artie up to his front door.

“I think I love you,” Artie blurted nervously as Brittany parked his wheelchair next to the door.

“What?” Brittany asked in shock, not sure if she was hearing him right. 

“I think I’m _in love_ with you. You don’t have to say it back or anything. I just wanted you to know that, because I think you’re awesome, Brittany, and I love calling you my _girlfriend_ , and these past four months have been the best of my life.”

“Artie, I….” Brittany trailed off, truly not sure what she should say. There was a part of her that thought maybe she loved him too, especially because he was so good to her, and treated her like she _mattered_ , and wanted to talk about _feelings_ and other things she could _never_ talk about with Santana. But saying it back to him tonight, especially after what she just did with the Latina, didn’t feel right. It felt like she’d be saying it back just to feel less guilty, and she knew that Artie deserved better than that. 

“Don’t say anything, okay? Not until you know for sure. Thanks for dropping me off, I’ll see you tomorrow at school?”

“Of course. Goodnight, Artie,” Brittany said, lowering herself so she could press a kiss to Artie’s cheek. He raised his eyebrows, and Brittany knew he was wondering why she didn't give him a real kiss, but she was desperate not to erase Santana from her lips. 

The next day at school, Brittany held Santana tight as she cried hysterically in front of the entire Glee club and a very concerned Mr. Schue after their _Blame It On the Alcohol_ performance. It was the second time in a span of two weeks that Santana had lost it and started crying at school (actually the third, but Brittany didn’t know about the sobbing Santana did on Valentine’s Day in a bathroom stall). Brittany knew Santana was falling apart, _everything_ was falling apart, and she never felt more confused or conflicted in her entire life (especially with Artie’s recent confession). 

Brittany knew that things couldn’t go on like this for much longer. _Something_ had to change. But Brittany had already taken so many steps for the both of them, and now it was Santana’s turn. It had to be _Santana_ to take the next step, but Brittany knew she might need a small push. She just had to figure out _how_ to do it.


End file.
